Page 79 of Moonlit Fate

My confusion spiraled into the abyss. I took a chance and pressed my consciousness against the walls of the alpha’s mind. There were no shields preventing me from entering, and I breached his mind with no effort at all. The thoughts I found there were tainted with greed and a gross misunderstanding of the sacred balance. They sought to manipulate what was never meant to be controlled, to turn the very essence of life into a tool for conquest.

“Food grows scarce. The territory must expand,” the alpha said. “We cannot allow the packs to starve.”

“Leave it to me,” Larkin said, his hand moving through the air as if to cut away any doubt. “Expansion will be the least of your worries once Silver Claw falls.”

Rage kindled in me, stoked by the betrayal unfolding before me. Larkin, who had always hovered around Aria, now revealed the true nature of his intentions. The thought of him near her, with his treachery masked behind a façade of devotion, made me want to burn the world down.

Silent as the night itself, I pressed against the rough bark of an oak. The forest froze with me, its magic pulsating through the underbrush and into my veins. It was in this charged stillness that I noticed a shadow where none should have been. My eyes locked with Ragnar, who stood motionless in the clearing.

His visage betrayed an inner turmoil. Those eyes, once so fierce, were now hollow with a regret that clawed at my own chest. In the quiver of his lip, the slight tremble of his hand,I understood. Ragnar had seen the treachery for himself. We shared a silent communion, a bond formed in the unspeakable truth.

“Everything is proceeding as planned,” Larkin said. “You need not worry about Ragnar. He’s entangled in my web, believing every lie spun with precision. Soon, Aria and I will be mated. She will watch as he crumbles, and the title of Silver Claw alpha will be in our grasp.”

The Crimson Fang alpha, a titan among wolves, regarded Larkin with skepticism. “Your confidence borders on arrogance,” he rumbled. “Do not mistake my trust for blindness. If you fail to deliver, it won’t be just the Silver Claw that suffers your folly.”

I could feel the tension between them. Larkin’s jaw tightened, his piercing eyes narrowing.

“Have I ever failed you before?” Larkin said, each word imbued with a venomous charm. “My plan is flawless. Trust in it, and in me.”

The back of my neck prickled as I realized the depth of Larkin’s deception. His confidence was not just for show; he believed in his victory as surely as he believed the moon would rise each night. Yet, beneath his bravado, there was a flicker of uncertainty. Apprehension that perhaps he had overplayed his hand.

I crouched, my skin tightening, bracing for conflict.

My gaze landed on a magic wielder, a rare warlock whose power was leashed by the iron cuffs around his wrists. He stood in a circle of ancient runes drawn into the dirt, a puppet compelled to dance to the Crimson Fang’s twisted tune. Part of an amulet lay at the core of the ritual, its aura sinister yet beguiling, calling out to the fragment I kept hidden away in my den.

It was almost shocking to see a warlock. They usually remained in hiding, far away from shifters and other magic users like them. Their power was intense and sought after. The warlock’s face was gaunt, eyes hollow from the drain of his magic. Each incantation pulled more vitality from him, leaving behind a shell of the man he once was.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he called. I’ve done everything in my power, but it remains unresponsive.”

His tormentor, the Crimson Fang alpha, paced, frustration deepening the furrows into his forehead as the spell failed to bend to his will.

“Work faster. You’d better find a way to make it become a regular conversationalist,” the alpha snarled. “You promised us power, not excuses.”

My wolf snarled, and my rage boiled. I felt immensely protective over the sacred balance they dared to violate. Under no circumstances could they unite the amulet’s halves. Their ignorance could tear apart the delicate equilibrium between man, wolf, and the wild magics that lay dormant beneath our feet.

I committed every detail of the ritual to memory—the pattern of the runes, the warlock’s weary chants, and the unmistakable shape of the amulet’s fragment. It was a jagged piece of history, one that matched the contours of my own relic—an echo of a past long buried but never forgotten.

They did not perceive the danger they toyed with, nor did they understand the lengths to which I would go to safeguard the legacy entrusted to me.

“Focus,” the alpha said.

The warlock, nearly broken, chanted with dwindling vigor, his words a toxic whisper against the sanctity of the wilds. I could almost hear and feel the roots of the trees around me recoiling, their whispers of alarm reaching out.

I stood motionless, my body taut with the urge to intervene, but I knew my position was precarious. To reveal myself now would be to invite chaos, but to wait… could I afford the delay? The amulet’s power was incomplete, fractured. Yet even in its divided state, it held enough malice to cripple the Silver Claw and every pack that lay unaware.

This wasn’t just about survival. This was about preserving a harmony that had existed long before our kind had ever laid claim to it. The Crimson Fang were blind to the devastation they were courting, ignorant to the destructive ripples their actions could send across realms unseen.

“Is it weakening?” one of the lieutenants asked.

“Patience,” the alpha said. “The forest will yield, and when it does, we’ll be ready to strike.”

Then it struck me. They needed the whole amulet, the missing piece that lay guarded in my den. It was a legacy of a world untamed, and they, with their greed-shrouded hearts, sought to bind it to their will.

As the warlock’s vigor waned and the alpha’s impatience grew, I withdrew from the scene with silent steps, a phantom amongst the trees. My mission was clear: retrieve the amulet, create the triskele, perform the ritual, and safeguard the balance. Protect all.

Doesn’t it all just sound so easy?I thought sarcastically.

The forest was a labyrinth of shadow, and I moved through it with the lethal grace that had become my signature. I retreated from the clandestine gathering, my mind ablaze with the information I had gleaned. The Crimson Fang were playing with forces they could not hope to control, and it fell on me to stop them.

---